


Alma Mater Studiorum [’Ol 55 Mix]

by koanju (verstehen)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/pseuds/koanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freeway cars and trucks, Sam's riding with Lady Luck</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alma Mater Studiorum [’Ol 55 Mix]

**Author's Note:**

> For Remix 2007, remix of Alma Mater Studiorum by Flyakate

"Large spirit animals that follow around the people who can see them," Dean said confidently, a touch of smug in his young voice.

"They have a less friendly form, boys. What is it?" John asked, taking his eyes off the road as he looked down at his two boys. Dean had, typically, called shotgun as soon as they left, which left Sammy sandwiched between the pair of them. He was holding a book and John ruefully wondered, when isn't he anymore?, completely ignoring the conversation. He tried to get a good look at the title — the boy could at least be reading something useful — but couldn't manage it with the angle Sammy had the book in his lap.

"Spirit horse," Dean said. "Entices people to mount them and drags them underwater to drown."

John studied his oldest son for a few seconds before putting his eyes back on the stretch of black asphalt. Dean was staring out the window, doing his best to look uninterested in the 'word games' he had them playing to pass the time. But his enthusiastic answers and the grin he saw reflected in the windshield and against the passenger window pretty much told the real truth. "Now why don't you let your brother answer one, Dean."

"Sammy's not paying attention anyway, Dad," Dean said with just a little more smugness to his voice, shrugging his shoulders in a way that made the patched elbows slide up. They were Dean's own sloppy work of the old jacket he'd stolen from the garbage after John himself had trashed it. It was getting time for the boys to get new winter gear. He'd have to pass off some of his cash to Jim and have him take the boys shopping, at least until he got a new identity set up and could afford to get the boys real gear.

In part that's what this trip was about. He didn't like exposing Dean to the people he had to do business with to keep afloat — Sammy wasn't so much a concern yet, oblivious as the kid seemed to be, but he would be in a couple of years too. And Jim'd been badgering him for some time to come stay in Blue Earth for awhile, get the boys settled in and let them start the school year on time. John slid his eyes over to the top of Sammy's head and the book again before dropping his arm over his youngest son's shoulders.

"What'd you reading there, Sammy?"

"It's a book on Rome," Sammy mumbled, sliding away from John's arm. He knew instantly why the boy was doing it too. Sam was supposed to be studying the hunt, not reading about people who'd been dead for centuries.

"Sammy," John said, exasperated.

"I want to, Dad!" Sammy burst out, moving out from under his arm completely.

"Just play the game, Sammy," Dean said quietly. "You can read the book later. You know we're supposed to be studying in the car right now."

A blur of hair came in response as Sammy shook his head quickly; the boy needed a haircut again. "I don't wanna be behind the other kids," he said, his voice getting higher the more words that came out. By 'kids' it was a full on whine.

He saw Dean make a face at him out of the corner of his eye. "Don't lie, Sammy. Kids aren't reading books about Rome in third grade."

"They might be. At Pastor Jim's school." All John saw was more hair as Sammy looked over at his big brother. "We should read the Bible too. Last time you got in trouble for not knowing it!"

"Shut up, squirt," Dean snapped and elbowed his brother. John resisted the urge to sigh at the pair of them.

"Stop it!" he ordered and they stopped, just like he said, sitting up straight with near Marine precision. Just like he'd taught them. "Put the book away." He made sure his tone brooked no argument. Both of them had mouths when they wanted to and he was not in mood after driving north from Florida. They weren't too far from Blue Earth and he wanted to spend the rest of the drive in peace. "Name three classes of demons. Dean, don't help your brother."

Sammy gave a put upon sigh too old for his age and muttered out, "Goblins, in-cube-bi, and pos-sess-ors." As much as he stumbled over the last word, he was right. "I know this, Dad. We go over and over and over and over it. I wanna read the book. It's gots soldiers?"

"You're supposed to be studying," he said, tapping his fingers against the worn leather on the wheel. "Not goofing off."

"It is studying!" Sammy bent over, reaching for the book, and Dean snatched it away, hunching over to hiss something at his height. It sounded like 'be good' but John didn't have much hope for that. The kid'd been grumpy since lunch.

At least this time they got lunch, John thought ruefully as he stared hard down at his youngest son. "No, it's not. We've got other things to be studying, Sammy. There's a lot of evil out there and you boys are helping me take care of that. This is more important."

"Dad," Dean's sudden tone got his attention and he looked up, glimpsing the way he'd veered the truck through the corner of his eye. Damnit, they might have got lunch but he hadn't got much sleep the night before. Bobby'd call him yesterday, sometime before dawn, saying he had a tip on a hot possession happening down in San Antonio. It could be the bastard John was chasing or it might be something else; either way, he intended to take care of it and without the boys along.

"Dean, quiz your brother," he barked out and reached up to rub his mouth with the back of his hand. On the side of the road was a sign that read 'Blue Earth 12 miles'. In less than twenty minutes, they'd be there.

Part of him wanted to just say 'Thank God,' but he knew that's the part of him Mary would never have let out while she was still living. He dropped his hand back on the steering wheel, leaving him able to fiddle with his ring, twisting it around his ring finger with his thumb, on his left hand. He tuned out the boys, Dean's authoritative voice and Sammy's sulky one, as he concentrated on getting them there without crashing. He'd drop them off with Jim Murphy, drive for another hour or two toward San Antonio, and then hole up in the cheapest motel he could find.

By the time he got to the motel and a pay phone to call his boys, Sam'd be out of the mood he was sure. It never stuck for long.


End file.
